You Owe Me $1.25

Chapter 2

"Hmm, no fever," he said. "Still, scarf down an egg to play it safe. Sit tight."

He completely missed my flushed cheeks.

Chloe skipped into the kitchen, only for Leo to bark, "Do not touch those regular eggs. I will make you organic pasteurized ones instead. They are healthier."

My stomach dropped.

Last night, I had bawled over a single egg like a total sap. Now I just felt ridiculous.

When they emerged with plates, Chloe put on her sweetest act. "Ooh? Cold medicine? Is Iris feeling sick?"

A smack sounded as a mask slapped across my face.

That shattered what was left of my heart.

"Chloe's health is fragile," he said. "How could you be so thoughtless?"

"Oh, and you owe me one dollar and ninety cents for the mask."

Chloe sighed theatrically. "Thank heavens Leo edits my work. I cannot even do basic math or spell, unlike Iris here, our little stay-at-home queen!"

Leo's face darkened. "Why compare? You are meant to fly, not scrub floors."

The medicine crumpled in my trembling fist.

Last winter, when the heating bill needed to be paid, the clerk insisted only the homeowner could sign.

I had fought through a snowstorm to his office, only for him to keep typing without looking up. "I am buried in proofs. Handle it yourself!"

Yet now, he told another woman, "Let me take care of the boring stuff."

Her cheeks dimpled as she giggled. They wolfed down the eggs. Between bites, they gushed about his new book, and her laughter tinkled like a tiny bell.

The moment the door shut behind her, Leo finally bothered to glance my way. He noticed my puffy eyes and the tear-soaked mask. His voice dipped with faux concern. "Why did you not say you felt awful?"

A clatter and a clang soon followed. Another egg appeared. I prayed desperately that if he cared at all, he would not make this a transaction.

Hope died when he coolly held out his phone for payment. "That is one dollar and twenty-five cents for the egg. Pay up."

Something in my chest snapped. My voice came out eerily calm. "Leo, I want a divorce."

He scoffed, of course.

Ever since learning Chloe had carried his child, I had cycled through every emotion—from the gut punch of betrayal to the white-hot rage of humiliation. I had shrieked "divorce" until the word went numb. He had grown used to my meltdowns, watching with his arms crossed until I collapsed, then strolling off to work like nothing had happened.

That left me to sweep up the wreckage.

But not this time. This time, I would burn it all down.

The lawyer sent over the draft agreement, and I pored over every detail.

Seeing that I was not making a scene, Leo could not help gloating. With a crinkling sound, he pulled out a box of condoms and said, as if bestowing a reward, "Pay me back four dollars. I will come back to our bed tonight."

The day Leo moved back in, he had suggested, "Iris, we need time and space to cool off. Let us not share a room for now."

I had been stunned. "You think I wanted you back just for that? You think everyone is as twisted as you?"

He did not argue. He just gave me a patronizing glance before retreating to the study.

Now, his hand crept under my nightgown. "Iris, we are still married. Let us have a child."

Even with my back turned, I could picture that put-upon expression and the long-suffering sigh, as if initiating intimacy was some grand sacrifice, a gift to his wife of seven years.

I laughed, bitter and hollow. Then I dragged out the forbidden topic we had avoided for months. "What about Chloe's baby? Is that not your only child that matters?"

The room went dead silent.

After a heavy pause, Leo snarled behind me.